Misread
by Perfection-Addict
Summary: Caroline's not a criminal – not really. Thus, being sent to the ground with a group of newly liberated delinquents is not her cup of tea. Waiting for the rest of the Ark's people to come isn't going to be easy, and she definitely can't do it alone. Down here, isolation is death. But maybe "down here" isn't as bad as she thought. (Bellamy and OC)


Chapter 1: The Cage

Caroline's POV

"Whatever the hell we want!"

The smooth lines of their silhouettes intermingled with one another, stark against the striking orange light of the pulsing fire, as they chanted wildly. The energy that radiated from the crowd was almost tangible; she swore that – like the thick smoke – it billowed around them only to meet the night air and disappear. Neither the smoke nor their energy managed to reach her, as she was much too far away, tucked between the thick roots of a monstrous tree.

A vicious unease sat low in her stomach, playing maliciously with what little food was left in her system. That unease had kept her tense and standoffish the entire day and even more so as it had ebbed away, leaving a black night in its wake. No one had spoken to her as of yet, though she was hardly approachable with her brows knit in constant worry, hard eyes and sharp frown. They could probably sense her fear as – laced with an overwhelming mistrust of them all – it was quite blatant. Perhaps they had opted for companions with lighter hearts or wickeder intentions. Or perhaps she, like the Earth's dank humidity, was there but invisible; present but unimportant compared to all the planet had to offer. Being invisible didn't seem like such a bad thing, at least not down here, surrounded by them.

These were not her people.

Her people were somewhere among the stars, waiting to come down and meet her. The Ark was her home and its inhabitants her family. These criminals were just that – criminals. Delinquents with which she had nothing in common, except the unfortunate knowledge of what the inside of a cell looked like.

And while the cell had been cold and its four walls suffocating, she wished to be caged once again. Safe within its sterile confines, bored by its monotony and content with its window's ideal view of Earth. Close enough that she could admire the planet's deep blues and greens and the way in which the white clouds seemed to be smeared haphazardly on its surface, but far enough that if she closed her eyes or turned away she could forget it even existed. No matter how hard she clenched her eyes shut now, the Earth refused to fade away – it stayed beneath her feet; force-fed her every breath; offered her a symphony of strange noises she wished to mute. So, instead of shutting her eyes, she looked to the stars; the stars which promised her that she would see them all again – her friends and family. _Him_.

Then, for a moment, she swore the stars began to melt, reaching for her as if to grab and pull her back to where she belonged.

But what foolishly seemed like liquidized stars was, in fact, rain.

It was raining.

The crowd hollered in delight, jumping sporadically and bringing one another into tight hugs. She couldn't help the smile that pushed past the frown lines that had found a home on her face, as she admired the way in which they expressed their unadulterated joy. Somewhere between watching handfuls of them slide and spin across the slick forest floor, and then – one small group at a time – run to take shelter in the dropship, a realization settled into her. It came as fast and hard as the rain had but, somehow, left her much colder: the Ark wasn't coming for two months. Why this hadn't properly registered before the sky decided to open up, was unbeknownst to her. Maybe the rain had reminded her how foreign the Earth actually was to them all, or how long and hard the days that lied before them would be. And that was if they survived another day…

The thought brought her to her feet, so quickly, in fact, that her vision blurred for a moment, reminding her of her hunger. Using the tree's mossy trunk to stabilize herself, she struggled to draw in a few deep breaths as built-up panic set in. There was no guarantee that any of them would even make it through the night. She'd known her life was in jeopardy the moment they'd forced her into the stupid dropship, but now it all seemed so real. She could die. They all could.

The only way – if there even was a way – they'd survive was if they stuck together.

 _Together._

She grabbed the jacket she'd been using as a makeshift seat, too strung up on her sudden epiphany to even consider putting it back on, and began to make her way to the dropship. Her tight bun, which had once been perfect, was now a sopping mess that hung near her ears; her hair practically begging to be released. So as she fought her way through the dense undergrowth, she ripped it out, allowing her soaking strands to attach themselves to her face, neck, shoulders and back.

With every step she took forward, she wished to take two in the opposite direction. But as much as she wanted to distance herself from these people, she needed them. She needed allies.

As she neared the clearing, she noticed that a collection of boys had chosen not to hide from the unrelenting rain, and instead seemed to be in deep conversation by the bright embers of the dying fire. Her footfalls, which had been rushed and heavy, slowed upon approaching the group, but that didn't stop them from taking notice of her. They whipped their heads toward her in alarm, most likely shocked to find that they weren't alone. She froze underneath their intense stares, even as they collectively softened at the sight of her: a mere girl, defenseless and soaked from head to toe.

She recognized the man closest to her as a very wet Bellamy Blake, whose styled hair now hung limply across his forehead. She'd never met him, nor did she know anything about him other than the fact that he had a sister named Octavia. The two had made quite the scene when the dropship had landed, but since she'd gone off on her own minutes afterwards, she knew nothing of their characters. Though he'd seemed nice enough, the curious stare he had trained on her was tinged with suspicion and his smirk and stature practically dared her to question him. They'd been on the ground for less than 24 hours and yet he had an authoritative air, like he owned the soil beneath her feet, planted every tree himself and hung the moon in the sky. She'd always been one to judge books by their covers – she couldn't help herself – her gut reactions were always accurate, at least in her opinion. And at that moment her gut was practically screaming that the guy was one hell of a cocky bastard.

While their stare down probably lasted for no more than half a minute, she felt as if he stripped her down, sized her up, chewed her to pieces and spit her out, without even blinking. She was suddenly very aware of the way in which the rain made her thin red tank stick to her skin, though whether he even took notice of her revealing apparel was beyond her. His eyes were full of something – that was for certain – but she wasn't sure what. Fortunately, a big slap of what she assumed to be thunder, took the attention of not only Bellamy, but all the boys surrounding him. So, while they looked to the sky, she dove into the dropship, happy to be free from the likes of Bellamy Blake and his dark eyes.

* * *

The dropship's air was humid – the by-product of so many warm bodies occupying such a small space – and covered her trembling form like a muggy blanket. The structure's heat disagreed with her freezing body, as it seemed to help her comprehend how cold she actually was. Droplets of frigid rain met a sheen of fresh sweat, as her eyes searched for an empty space to rest. While the room was buzzing with voices, many people laid on the floor, their fatigue coaxing them to sleep despite the noise.

Shuffling around the bodies that littered the floor, she earned a handful of inquisitive stares from those who'd managed to stay awake, though she hardly minded. As strangers stuck in the same shitty situation, curiosity toward one another seemed natural. She also wasn't surprised to find that a few people offered her sneers and scowls – she wasn't quick to forget that the room was full of newly liberated criminals. They weren't exactly known for having the best attitudes. According to her father, at least.

She lost their interest upon finding a small spot against the wall to sit, only to catch the attention of the boy she slid down next to.

"Thought you could outlast the rain?" She snapped her head to the right, taken aback for a moment, before quickly observing the owner of the deep, shockingly playful, voice. At first glance, his fairly long hair almost persuaded her into believing that he was younger than herself, but his square jaw and prominent Adam's apple told her otherwise. If he was younger, he wasn't much.

"Hmm?"

"Your shirt," he paused to pinch at one of her tank straps, releasing it gently when she flinched. "Just looks like the rain might have won this round."

"Oh," she managed, turning away so she could relax her back against the wall. She took a minute to study the delinquents, surprised to find that they'd already begun to dry off, convinced that – in comparison – she looked like a rat fresh from the sewer. How long had she been out there?

"I'm Caroline." His gaze fell to her outstretched hand for a second before taking it, his raised eyebrows conveying that he was just as shocked that she'd introduced herself as she was.

"Bash." His hand was pleasantly warm, if not a bit clammy.

"Short for Sebastian?"

"Not if you don't spread that around," he whispered, offering her a dry smile. She laughed at his pseudo threat, causing his smile to stretch, revealing a set of perfect teeth. "So _Care_ ," he made sure to properly enunciate his new nickname for her, all in what Caroline assumed was an impish attempt to annoy her. "How're you liking the new home?"

"It's very…green." And warm, and wet, and beautiful and…deadly.

"Green?" He let out a horse laugh. "Well, you have to admit it's better than the cells. How long were you locked up for anyway? No, let me guess. Two years? Three?" She gave him a look she knew he luckily misread when he continued. "That long, eh? Well…at least we're here now…I guess?"

Six.

She'd been locked up for six days.

She'd been in the cell for less than a week.

She knew she didn't belong on the ground and she hated – _hated_ – Jaha and his people for sending her to Earth. But in that moment, her obvious lack of belonging didn't incite rage but…embarrassment. She was embarrassed that she was surrounded by people who spent years rotting away in solitary confinement, when she hadn't even spent more than a single week doing the same. And, though she only just met him, she didn't want Bash to know the truth…she didn't want _anyone_ knowing the truth. So she practically had to suppress a smile when the small shriek of the sleeping girl next to her put a sudden end to Bash's inquiry.

It was loud enough that the people near her turned to look, but quiet enough that the low hum of conversation never ceased. Unsure of what exactly to do, Caroline gently nudged at her shoulder, reflexively pulling back when the girl's eyes shot open.

"Sorry," she said after a second, sitting up and glancing around the room rapidly, most likely gauging how many people heard her cry. "I get nightmares a lot." Caroline nodded sympathetically, stunned by how young the girl seemed. With her wispy blonde hair and little brown eyes, she looked fairly angelic. Leading her to wonder how the girl ever found herself here.

"I'm Caroline," she offered with what she hoped to be a comforting smile, holding her hand out yet again.

"Charlotte."

"Well, Charlotte, I don't know much about curing nightmares, but if you start making any noises like you're having one, I promise to wake you up as fast as I can. Deal?" Pleased to see Charlotte smile at her words, she leaned against the wall once more, watching the girl lie back down and make herself comfortable. Simply watching her surrender to sleep, encouraged a wave of exhaustion to descend over Caroline, tempting her to shut her eyes – but not before sharing a pleased look with Bash.

Her final thoughts and feelings before she was fully taken over by fatigue were mangled and contradictive and ones she probably wouldn't remember in the morning. There was a string of nervous contemplations which were met, head-on, by a miniscule tingle of excitement induced by the Earth's undeniable loveliness. A hatred of the people she was stuck with, but an unexpected fondness of Charlotte and Bash. The sense that she was finally free. Yet, the feeling that she left one cell to be trapped in another. Albeit bigger and greener, it was also more daunting and, somehow, more stifling.

And, she feared, one she wouldn't be freed from anytime soon.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a review :) I love to hear your thoughts, criticism, ideas and theories (as I don't have this story totally planned out, your words do influence what I write). Oh and of course I do not own The 100, it is owned by Kass Morgan and The CW.**


End file.
